


Let Me Give You My Life

by misanthropiclycanthrope



Category: Atlantis (UK TV)
Genre: Angst, Episode: s02e12 The Queen Must Die, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-31 13:44:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3980212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misanthropiclycanthrope/pseuds/misanthropiclycanthrope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He should not weep for what he never truly had, for something he sacrificed his right to even dream of.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me Give You My Life

**Author's Note:**

> This was stuck in my head all last night. I wasn’t going to write it because it has already been done – and done so well – but if there’s one thing I can’t resist writing, it’s angsty fluff.

Perhaps it’s the endless inky depths of the night sky that holds Pythagoras’s gaze, but Icarus suspects it’s the stars, that scatter of countless softly flickering lights, so silent and mysterious. Beautiful, dependable, but always out of reach.

A sad smile touches Icarus’s lips. He knows it is not the puzzle of how to count those myriad stars that preoccupies Pythagoras’s keen mind tonight, knows because his own chest is hollow, empty but for the weight of a heart heavy with guilt and remorse.

Behind him, Hercules’s snores rattle through the otherwise quiet night. His slumber offers Icarus a reprieve of sorts. He can’t help but remain wary around the man. Having surrendered any right he once had to Hercules’s trust and respect, he knows that the only thing holding back his anger is the desire to see Pythagoras happy. That staunch, protective loyalty is admirable, a quality Icarus can only wish he too possessed.

He doesn’t want to intrude, should give Pythagoras the space he needs, but it’s the forlorn droop to Pythagoras’s shoulders that brings Icarus to his side. He bites down on the groan of pain that threatens to escape as he sits, glad of the constant ache in his ribs as he breathes. It is a reminder, a penance.

Pythagoras acknowledges him with a brief glance before turning back to the stars. It’s too dark to clearly see his expression, and maybe that’s a blessing. It was the hurt Icarus had earlier recognised in those blue eyes that had struck so deeply at his heart, left him breathless with shame.

_I’m sorry_.

He doesn’t say the words aloud. They’re not enough, will never be enough. Nor will he ask for forgiveness. He had been faced with an impossible choice but there can be no excuse for such a reprehensible betrayal. Pythagoras should hate him, has every right, should feel the same disgust that tastes so bitter on Icarus’s own tongue, a bitterness chased away by the memory of Pythagoras’s lips against his own. A kiss more tender, more affectionate than he surely deserved.

There’s a spark of hope in his breast that Icarus knows he should snuff, but he fears not even Poseidon Himself could extinguish the flame that burns with the bright intensity of his love for this man who merits so much more.

Icarus closes his eyes tight against the sting of tears. He should not weep for what he never truly had, for something he sacrificed his right to even dream of.

He makes to rise, is stopped by a touch, the press of a hand that becomes an embrace. He tenses, tries to deny himself the comfort Pythagoras offers, but he feels the gentle brush of lips against his temple, the sweep of a thumb across his cheek wiping away the single escaped tear, and he relents, sinking into the circle of Pythagoras’s arms.

He would fall from the sky a hundred times for this man. Is prepared to do just that.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from Hozier’s ‘Take Me To Church’.


End file.
